


Deficit

by konokomi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto Has AD(H)D and is Not the Best at Managing It, Gen, basically pre-bokuaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5213780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/konokomi/pseuds/konokomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto would give anything to be able to <em>fix</em> himself, but he doesn’t even know what’s <em>broken</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deficit

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not gonna lie, this is completely and totally a vent fic about my own issues

It’s not that hard.

He’s smart, he’s really smart, the answer is really easy, it’s _x_ over one, he _knows this_ , he doesn’t know how he knows it without having done anything on paper but he _knows_ and why can’t he _show that he knows it_ , why is it so hard—

It’s not that hard. It’s _not that hard_ but it is, it’s so hard, and Bokuto is mindlessly pushing the equals button on his calculator and watching the number spit out double in size every time because _it’s too hard_ but _it’s so easy_ and why, why is he like this, why is he so—dumb? He’s dumb, he’s useless, he can’t even do a simple math problem without fucking it up, it’s _x over one_ but he can’t prove it, he just knows, but because he’s so _stupid_ he can’t actually _solve it_ , he won’t have his homework done on time, Sensei will be so mad—

Akaashi.

Akaashi will be mad too. Well, maybe not _mad_ , but disappointed at least, when he hears that Bokuto got in trouble again for not having his homework done on time ready to hand in at the start of class, and he’ll make that _face_ , that face that says he really does care but at the same time he’s still upset, when his eyebrows furrow just a little and he gets that little crease between them, and his eyes soften _just enough_ that Bokuto can tell, because Bokuto knows his setter—likes him quite a bit, really, always notices little things about him that no one else does. Appreciates that he stays behind to practice more when the rest of the team has fled the gym. Akaashi is smart. Maybe he’s good at math. Maybe Akaashi can prove that it’s _x_ over one.

He should be figuring out how to prove that it’s _x_ over one but instead he just keeps hitting the equals button on the calculator, over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over, and the number’s so big the calculator has had to reduce it to powers but he keeps going, because the answer is still _x_ over one and he _doesn’t know why_ but it _is_. It’s _x_ over one, it’s _x_ over one, it’s _x_ over one—it’s _right there_ , the answer is _so obvious_ , but Sensei said show work, and he—he can’t, he can’t show it, he doesn’t know how he knows but it’s plain as day that the answer is _x_ over one.

The number on the calculator keeps getting bigger and Bokuto’s patience is wearing thin, he wants to be done already, it’s eight p.m. and he’s full from dinner and he just wants to be _done already_ so he can go spike a ball against the fence until his mom yells at him to come in like she does every night but he _can’t_ —because it’s _x_ over one and he doesn’t know how to prove it.

It’s not that hard but it’s _so difficult_.

Maybe he should call Akaashi and see if he can come over and tell Bokuto to his face that he’s smart and then Bokuto can ask him for help—but no, no if he does that, then Akaashi will think he’s stupid because he needs help, smart people don’t need help, Akaashi probably never needs help—and, and, and Akaashi is probably doing his own homework, he can’t be bothered with helping Bokuto with his.

Frustrated, Bokuto growls at the calculator like it’s its fault and jams the equals button one more time before scratching down ‘ _x_ over one’ as his answer with no work to show for it, because really, it’s better to just take half-credit than no credit at all, it’s not like Sensei doesn’t expect it out of him—it’s not hard to exceed exceedingly low expectations, because Sensei doesn’t think Bokuto is all that smart. Of course she doesn’t, because that’s why Bokuto is in class one and not one of the higher level classes. Akaashi is in a high-level class in his own year. Because Akaashi is smart, and he can show it, and people don’t think Akaashi is dumb because Akaashi can _prove_ that it’s _x_ over one instead of just writing down a ‘coincidentally’ correct answer (and Bokuto tried to say it, once, tried to tell Sensei that it wasn’t just a coincidence, and he didn’t copy anyone, he _knew_ it was the right answer, but he couldn’t prove it, and Sensei just wouldn’t take that as the truth, and Bokuto had to take his half-credit and live with it).

The next problem to solve is a word problem, and Bokuto hates those more than anything, with their stupid diagrams and pictures and easy-to-solve mathematical riddles that Sensei wants him to use complicated math for. It’s five centimeters, the frame’s width is five centimeters all around, he can tell just by _looking at it_ , why isn’t that good enough? It’s common sense! But common sense doesn’t solve math problems because common sense doesn’t exist in theoretical math problems tailor-made to make his day miserable. Who would even _consider_ trying to corral a bunch of cows using the stream as the fourth side to the corral, they could just cross the stream and get out, it’s so dumb and the smart thing to do would be to build a _real_ corral, with four sides, tall enough that they can’t step over it—but math doesn’t care. Math wants stupid things, and for that, it’s stupid, and Bokuto hates it.

Bokuto would give anything to be able to _fix_ himself, but he doesn’t even know what’s _broken_ —he used to be smart, long ago, and he was always top of the class and his parents and his teachers were _so proud_ of him, little smart Koutarou, and he had a bright future, little smart Koutarou, until little smart Koutarou grew up into big dumb Koutarou before he could even realize what was happening. He didn’t even get the chance to figure out what went wrong before he found himself shoved in a low-level class his first year at Fukurodani and was never able to escape it, because now he’s a third-year and it’s his last year of high school before he goes to college and he’s still in _class one_ , and Akaashi is in class _six_ because he doesn’t have _problems_ like Bokuto. Akaashi isn’t _broken_. He’s smart.

That’s why Bokuto likes him so much. Akaashi is _so smart_ but he doesn’t treat Bokuto like an idiot. None of the team does. Because volleyball is the one chance Bokuto has at being smart. He doesn’t have to solve stupid math problems or worry about what kanji goes to what word or how to mix chemicals without them exploding in his face and singeing off his eyebrows (which sucked really hard and even Akaashi was fighting back laughter at how dejected he was without them), he just has to know how to hit the ball. And he’s good at it, he’s proud of himself, he likes volleyball and he likes his team and he likes being the captain.

He writes down ‘five centimeters’ in the space provided for the answer and drops his pencil, pushing himself away from the desk before standing up and taking the couple steps over to his bed. He flops down onto it face-first, limbs out like a starfish as he groans into the pillow. When did life get so hard? All anyone cares about anymore are his _grades_. “You’ll never get anywhere if you keep getting distracted,” everyone keeps saying. “You just have to focus.” But he does! He can focus! When he’s out on the court nothing can stop him, he puts his all into it every single time he pulls on his kneepads and he doesn’t space out when Akaashi tosses to him and looks really pretty doing it or even when cute girls are in the stands cheering for him and the rest of the team to win. And some of them are _really_ pretty, almost as pretty as Akaashi—never as or more, because no one could possibly be as pretty or prettier than Akaashi, with his dark eyes and long eyelashes and cute nose and the way he fidgets with his hands sometimes and wolfs down onigiri like nobody’s business—but he still keeps his eye on the game to do his duty as the captain.

Schoolwork just sucks, is all.

Bokuto flips onto his side and grabs his pillow, hugging it tight to his chest and jutting his bottom lip out into a pout. No one’s around to see it but it doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway, burying his face in his pillow and wishing for the world to just become volleyball. He wants to get up in the morning and play volleyball, eat breakfast then play more volleyball, stop for lunch and then play more, play more before dinner and play some more after dinner and right before he takes his bath and goes to bed, because it’s the only time he feels like he isn’t worthless.

He’ll talk to Akaashi tomorrow. Akaashi will know what to do. He always does.

* * *

“One more.”

Throw. Toss. Spike.

“One more.”

Throw. Toss. Spike.

“One more.”

Throw. Toss. Spike.

“One more.”

Throw. Catch. “Bokuto-san, are you okay?”

“Huh?” Bokuto stops in his tracks, one foot still in the air, ready to jump. “Uh, yeah, I’m okay! I just wanna practice more spiking. What’s got you worried, Akaashi?”

Akaashi looks at the ball in his hands, spins it once, then looks back up at Bokuto. “You haven’t asked for praise once today,” he says, quiet. “It’s… It’s unusual, I suppose. Usually you hit a spike and immediately ask for my opinion of it. Is something bothering you?”

There’s a _lot_ bothering him that he doesn’t want to bug Akaashi with, honestly, but he waves a hand dismissively and says, “I’m okay, really! I was just up late doing homework last night. I didn’t get it all done either ‘cause I fell asleep, so Sensei wasn’t too happy about that.”

He can tell Akaashi isn’t buying it with the way his eyebrows furrow just slightly as the corner of his mouth twitches, but instead of calling him out on it, Akaashi throws the ball back to him. “If you say so. One more?”

“Yeah. One more.”

Throw. Toss.

Catch.

Bokuto’s feet hit the ground as he stares at the ball caught in both his hands, drumming his fingers on it. “Akaashi,” he says, still staring at this little volleyball, still rapping his fingers on it in a made-up, staccato rhythm before he stops and looks up at Akaashi, “do you think I’m smart?”

“…Where is this coming from?”

“Well, I just—” Bokuto starts, but cuts himself off. It _is_ a weird question to ask, especially one to ask your _junior_ , of all people, but Bokuto’s always cherished Akaashi’s opinion. “Just, like… With college, and everything. Graduation. Everyone’s pushing me to do well in school. But I’m… I’m in class _one_ and I don’t get good marks on a lot of stuff and _math_ , math is _awful_ and _stupid_ and I _hate it_ because I always know the answer but Sensei won’t give me full marks if I can’t prove it, and—” He bites his bottom lip. “I dunno. I feel stupid.”

It’s an agonizing moment before Akaashi inhales and says, slowly, carefully, “I… don’t think you’re stupid, Bokuto-san. Your game sense and perception are good and the rest of the team respects you as a captain. They wouldn’t if they thought you were stupid.”

Bokuto pouts anyway. “But what about _off_ the court.” He looks down at the ball in his hands again and spins it between his palms once, twice, three times, watching the colors blur together. “I’m in the lowest-level class there even _is_ and my grades are _barely_ good enough for me to stay on the team, I wasn’t paying attention and blew off my eyebrows that one time and you laughed at me for it, Sensei doesn’t believe me when I get math problems right because I have to ‘show my work’ and that’s dumb and I don’t want to, I suck at English…” At Akaashi’s silence, he spins the ball again and continues with, “I should be in a college prep class like Kuroo but I’m _not_. I’ve been stuck in class one since first year.”

“That doesn’t make you stupid,” Akaashi replies, crossing his arms and cocking his hips to the side. “Not even losing your eyebrows to science—for the record, I only laughed because it was objectively funny, not because it was _you_.” He taps his fingers on his upper arm. “If the material is too difficult for you to understand, you may just need to study better.”

“But it’s not!” Bokuto protests, squeezing the ball between his hands. “That’s not the problem at all! Everything’s too easy so I don’t wanna do it, then I end up doing horribly on everything! None of my teachers seem to understand, though…” Heaving a big sigh, he drops down to the floor and sits with his legs crossed, ball in his lap. “I try to do what I’m supposed to but I just get _bored_.”

Akaashi sits across from him. “Have you tried studying _with_ someone?”

“Well, no… Hey, hey, Akaashi, are you offering? Can I study with you?” Bokuto asks, and the tips of Akaashi’s ears go pink. “You’re really smart and you keep me in check on the court so maybe you can help me get better!”

“It’s not what I had in _mind_ ,” Akaashi replies, scratching his cheek, “but… it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll let my parents know I have plans after practices now. They shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“Really? Oh man, my mom is gonna be so _stoked_ to meet you. She’s always been asking to, like, ‘Koutarou, when are you going to introduce me to this Akaashi that’s stolen your heart?’ which is _super embarrassing_ for her to say! I think she thinks you’re a girl, probably because I said you were pretty. Oh, lemme know what kind of stuff you like to eat so I can tell my mom to make it, too!”

* * *

There’s no miracle.

Bokuto isn’t suddenly acing all his tests or anything close to it, but he’s doing a lot better, and he can’t believe it’s because he’s never had someone like Akaashi he could _explain_ things to. Akaashi always asks him how he reaches his conclusions and makes him spell it out for him, which leads Bokuto to have an actual, _tangible_ justification for his answers. Not just for math, but he can explain his literary analyses to Akaashi too, and Akaashi’s good enough at English to have conversations with.

Being in class doesn’t improve much at all because without someone he can talk to about everything, it’s tough to stay on track—but his homework and out-of-class assignments improve well enough that his teachers congratulate him on it.

It’s not perfect and it may never be, and Bokuto isn’t all that sure he _isn’t_ stupid, because he used to be better than this and what he is _now_ is nowhere _near_ how he used to be—but it’s _better_. It’s better, and that’s all that matters.

(And if he ends up getting to spend so much extra time with Akaashi… Well, that’s just a bonus.)


End file.
